


Letters from New York

by TheatricallyExtra



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Jack went to Santa Fe AU, Letters, M/M, Oneshot, Santa Fe, long distance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 16:22:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15777711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheatricallyExtra/pseuds/TheatricallyExtra
Summary: Jack left New York shortly after the strike. It's not everything that he dreamed of.





	Letters from New York

The first letter came approximately 3 weeks after Jack had arrived at his new home in Santa Fe. He had basically sprinted to answer the door when the mailman knocked. It was a messy, the envelope having been ripped, then taped in multiple places. Jack didn’t have to read it to know who it was from. He carefully opened the letter, squinting slightly at the messy chicken-scratch on the paper.

_Hiya Jack!_

_I told ya I’d write as soon as I could, I mean, it’s probably been weeks since I wrote this, cuz’a posting times and all, I promise I wrote this the week ya left!_

_It’s been weird without ya, quiet, too quiet for me. We’se all missin’ ya, especially old man weasel. I like to think I miss ya the most though, seein’ as I have the whole penthouse ta myself now! Race stayed with me the first night, kept me company and helped me up, but, it wasn’t the same really._

_I’m fine though, still carryin’ the banner! My leg’s fine too, not getting better anytime soon, but I can still sell so it’s not a problem._

_Anyways, how’re ya? Is Santa Fe all you ever dreamed about? I hope so. Have ya found yourself one of those palominos yet? The fancy horses? When I visit one day ya better introduce me!_

_I drew you a picture of the sky from the rooftop, its nothin’ compared to your works, and you can’t really recognise what it is, but its home. Well, for me I guess. I still have that little painting of Santa Fe ya gave me._

_Anyways, ya better write back to me soon, otherwise I’m gettin on a carriage if ya like it or not! Maybe I’ll be able to pull a stunt like you did, when you escaped the refuge!_

_I know I’se sayin’ it a lot but, I miss ya._

_Your bestest friend, Crutchie._

He smiled sadly, a sudden wave of homesickness washing over him. He quickly shook his head and grabbed another piece of paper, putting the letter, along with Crutchie’s drawing,  away in a drawer for safekeeping. He began writing his own letter back.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was around a month later when he got another response, though this time it was written on a significantly cleaner piece of paper, obviously one from Kathrine’s typewriter. The same scratchy handwriting addressed it to Mr Jack Kelly on the front though, making Jack smile as he picked it up from his doormat.

_Hey Jack!_

_Firstly, I wanted to say thank you for the drawing of your house! Looks like it’s in a lot better shape than the lodging house! A lot more orange than I thought but it’s still nice! Ya better give me a tour of it some day!_

_We all still miss you, though its starting to get easier. Race has gotten better at getting everyone to actually listen to him, maybe he’s been taking notes from Spot. I wouldn’t doubt it for a second._

_Davey and Les went back to school the other day, so they don’t sell daily anymore, only on Saturdays, though Davey still comes after school to hang out. He’s teaching some of the younger kids to read and write! Ain’t that cool? Les wanted me to tell you that he’s finally figured out how you do that hand trick ya taught him. I still don’t get it._

_The weather’s startin’ to get colder now, which isn’t really good for my leg. Plus it means I won’t be able to sleep on your penthouse anymore. I guess that makes it all real, that you’re gone and all._

_It makes me sound like a sap, but I like sitting up there and remembering all the tales that ya used to tell me; about Santa Fe. I hope it is all you dreamed it was, surely it must be better than New York._

_Anyways, I need ta get to sleep, I left writing this too long and now its late and I can barely see the page._

_I miss ya Jackie, please write soon,_

_Crutchie._

_(ps, Al says ya gotta pay us a visit soon!)_

Jack placed down the letter sadly. He really missed them too, everyone back in New York, but realistically, he wouldn’t be able to visit any time soon, or possibly ever. He slumped in his chair. Truthfully, Santa Fe was amazing, it was all he had ever dreamed of, but it was just… lonelier than he had expected. It’s not that he hadn’t made friends – he had – but it just wasn’t the same as the friendship he had with the newsies, especially Crutchie. There was something different about their friendship, something that very nearly made him stay in New York. He sighed and picked up a pen and notepad to reply.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was now a little over a year since Jack had left, and he was sat outside, impatiently waiting for the postman. He was still regularly talking to Crutchie, and they had figured out a system where Jack’s letters would arrive on thursdays, and Crutchie’s on Mondays. It was now Friday, and Crutchie’s letter still hadn’t arrived. Not that he was worried or anything, he just assumed Crutchie must’ve sent it a day late.

He perked up as he saw the postman walking towards his door.

“Hey mister! Ya got anything for me?” Jack asked happily, already getting up to retrieve the mail. He paused when the postman frowned and shook his head.

“Sorry Mr Kelly, nothing today. What’ya waiting for anyways? Long distance love?” The postman joked, trying to lighten the mood. Jack visibly tensed, feeling his face flush red.

“No, no! Just a letter from…a friend back home,” He huffed, the word home tasting bitter on his tongue.

“Well, Mr Kelly, I’m sure it’ll be here by Monday.” He smiled, and walked away from the frowning boy, going off to deliver the rest of the letters.

Jack’s weekend was not as pleasant as he had hoped. He still did his chores, cleaning out his horse’s stable, completing some commissions, and cooking something to eat as normal, though his mind was a bit fuzzy. He kept zoning out mid conversation, staring blankly at his hands. He was asked if he was okay on multiple occasions, though each time he just responded with “just tired, sorry,”.

On Sunday night he couldn’t take it anymore. He sat up in his bed and turned on his oil lamp. He dug under his bed for his old sketchbook, ratty and beat up, and opened up the first page. A sketch of Crutchie, paper in hand, yelling out the headline. It was and old drawing, dated 2 years before, but it still captured his best friend in the best way. The way he smiled as he called out the headline, despite it probably being a but shocking. The way his hair stuck out from under his hat. The way he leaned on his crutch, holding on tightly. Jack didn’t even realise he had started crying until a tear landed on the paper, almost smudging the pencil.

Jack quickly wiped his eyes with shaking hands, not wanting to ruin the drawing. Not that it was his only one, that sketchbook was filled with drawing of Crutchie. Not even modelling for him, just doing whatever.

Jack wasn’t going to kid himself any longer. He didn’t just miss New York. He missed Crutchie. He loved him. He fucking loved him. He was angry at himself, that he had left the one person who he loved with his whole heart for some place which could never fill the void in his heart, as cheesy as it sounded.

He quietly closed the notebook, throwing it under his bed again. He curled up in his bed, hugging his arms to his chest and squeezing his eyes closed.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He woke up to a loud knocking on the front door on the Monday morning. He shot up in his bed, quickly tossing a shirt on and leaping down the corridor. He’d finally gotten a response. He skidded to a stop and slammed open the door, but instead of the old postie he saw a young boy, around his age.

Dirty blonde hair. Freckled cheeks. Crooked smile.

Old wooden crutch.

Before his brain could even catch up with his thoughts, he was pushed into his house, the door closing behind them. Soft lips met his own and his eyes fluttered closed as he wrapped his arms around his best friend for the first time in over a year, running his hands up to hold the sides of the boys head.

They pulled apart way too soon and stood there for a moment, suspended in an aura of euphoria.

“What’re you doing here?” Jack whispered, still unable to comprehend that a, Crutchie was in Santa Fe, and b, that Crutchie had just KISSED HIM.

“I missed you so much, you don’t even understand. I’ve been saving up to see ya since ya first left.” Crutchie said, hugging Jack as if it would be the last time.

“I’m sorry – for leaving and all,” Jack said, squeezing him back just as tightly. “I promise I won’t up and leave you again.” Crutchie smiled.

“I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is so shit im sorry im just tired and wanna write some jackcrutchie because its a surprisingly underrated ship??? also ignore the fact that i dont actually know how to write like what the hell  
> please comment if you like it, constructive criticism is very welcome!!!!


End file.
